Just Another Day
by Anna Whitlinger
Summary: America and England spend a day together. What could possibly happen? USUK fluff. My first attempt at yaoi.
1. Chapter 1

**Don't own Hetalia. **

**ARGH HERE IT GOES**

* * *

America was looking up pick-up lines when England found him, staring intently at the screen like it contained the answer to the universe. Which was apparently 42, but that wasn't the point.

"Oh, hey, Iggy!" America looked up as England entered and flashed a smile in greeting. "Listen, how's this: Are you a parking ticket? 'Cause you've got fine written all over you."

England blinked. "Er..."

America, oblivious, continued, "Baby, you must be a broom, 'cause you just swept me off my feet! Hey, this one's cool: Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?"

By then, England was _really _confused...and a little flustered, too. His cheeks were tinged red, but he managed to sputter out, "W-What the hell are you talking about?"

America laughed. "Don't look so freaked. I was just bored. There's, like, zilch to do in your house."

England, upon hearing this, regained his composure and harrumphed. "Well, that certainly isn't my fault. You could always read a book. I recommend _A Tale of Two Cities _by Charles Dickens, one of the greatest writers of all time..."

"Dude, that's what I read to fall asleep," America cut in, snorting contemptuously. "And all your books are dusty and old. Haven't you ever heard of a Kindle?"

That made the British nation furious. "Well, of course an idiot like you wouldn't understand classic literature. Do what you like. Bloody hell, why do I even bother with you?"

With that, England stomped out of the room, frustrated, but for a couple of reasons. He was annoyed at the American's stupidity, but angry at himself as well for even reacting to those pick-up lines and hoping...

He smacked himself for thinking that. Of course he hadn't expected anything. He was simply...tired. Yes, that must be it.

It was a lovely afternoon. The sun had revealed itself at last, after many days of unsurprising rain. America was staying over at England's place because the younger nation's boss wanted to strengthen the country's ties with the member states of the European Union, the United Kingdom included, due to the economic crisis in both continents.

America had arrived just yesterday night, cheerful as ever although slightly weary from his long flight. As usual, the idiotic nation had contacted England about his arrival only a day before his trip, leaving the Englishman to worry immensely about preparations.

"Yo, Artie!" came America's voice just as England was about to settle down for a nice long nap. "Is there anything to eat besides that brownish stuff we had yesterday? I'm feeling kinda hungry."

"...We just had lunch an hour ago." That preposterous nickname was enough to drive England nuts; now the git had to insult his cooking _and _interrupt his rest.

Sometimes England wondered just why he had agreed to let America stay over and ruin his usually peaceful life.

"60 minutes is a long time," America said, as he entered the living room. England, who was relaxing on the sofa with an arm over his eyes, sat up and looked exasperatedly at the other country.

America brightened suddenly. "I know! Let's stop by McDonalds first, then go watch a movie. It's too sunny to be shut in the house like this."

"No," England replied promptly.

At this, America's face dropped into a pout. "Pleaaase?"

"No means no," England said firmly, then faltered when he saw that puppy face. Damn those blue eyes. "Ack...fine. As long as we stop at a more sensible restaurant after that horrible fast food place."

And that was how England found himself sitting in McDonalds as America enjoyed his "quick snack," wanting nothing more than to leave as fast as possible.

"Want some fries?" America offered, as he popped one into his mouth.

"No, thank you," England answered, his stomach feeling weak just at the sight of those golden monstrosities, and added to change the topic, "So, what movie would you like to watch later?"

"I was thinking Paranormal Activity," America said thoughtfully, "or maybe The Last Exorcism."

England shuddered. "How about something less...intense?"

America frowned. "Aw, but I like horror movies."

England rolled his eyes. "I'd like to believe that if you hadn't crawled into my bed after one of those every bloody time."

"I was protecting you," America said indignantly. "I'm the hero, after all."

Despite himself, England blushed. He looked away to hide it and muttered, "Git."

America smiled. "Does that mean a yes?"

_No, _England wanted to say, but it came out as, "Whatever. It doesn't really matter, anyway."

"Alright, then let's go!" America grabbed England's hand and dragged him out of the restaurant, the latter shouting curses the whole way.

After England had bought his desired tea at a local diner, they headed to the movie theater, where America bought tickets for the two of them. Which movie they were going to watch, England wasn't entirely sure, but to be honest it really didn't matter.

The theater dimmed, and the movie began.

England could not recall what exactly the movie had been about, but he did remember being uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was sitting in a dark room with America. He chided himself mentally for the thought, but it just kept nagging at him for a reason he couldn't understand.

At one particularly scary scene, America, who was literally trembling, suddenly grabbed England and crushed the Brit to his chest.

It was too dark for anyone to tell, but England knew he was blushing furiously. Although America was shaking, the nation radiated warmth that wasn't all that uncomfortable. This just made England's face flush even more, but the younger country's hold was too strong for him to escape, so he just lay against the soft leather of America's bomber jacket, not knowing what the hell he was going to do.

After a while, the American's arms began to loosen, but England found himself unable to let go...only because he was really tired! Not anything like _that_. His heart began to pound, though, when America let out a soft sigh and rested his head on England's shoulder.

It was _extremely _hard to concentrate on the movie then.

But alas, all good things must come to an end...not that the situation was _good_! The movie ended, the credits rolled, and the lights awoke, casting a dim yellow glow in the large room.

England blinked at the sudden change in brightness and tried to remember just what he had watched. All that came to mind, however, was what had happened during the film.

America stood and stretched. "Man, that was awesome, dontcha think?" the nation said, grinning.

England froze and his throat closed up. "W-What do you mean?"

"Um...the movie?"

"Oh, right." England mentally smacked himself for misunderstanding. "Er...it was alright."

"I knew you would like it," America said, and grinned again.

"Well, now that it's over, can we please go home now?" England asked, a bit overwhelmed from all the events that had occurred.

"Aw, but I'm hungry," America said, to England's disbelief.

"_Again_?" England sighed exasperatedly, running a hand through his messy blond hair. "Bloody hell, what am I to do with you?"

"We could cook something," America said thoughtfully, as they walked out of the theater. "Maybe some burgers..."

"Absolutely not!" England said, horrified at the suggestion. "You're going to contaminate my house that God awful smell.

"But Iggy..."

"Don't call me that ridiculous nickname!"

"How about cookies?" America offered.

England hesitated at this. Cookies, he supposed, were a much better option than that unhealthy junk. "Well...alright."

America cheered and began walking faster, making it difficult for England to catch up with the nation. Once they arrived at England's house, the younger country made a beeline for the kitchen, while England followed wearily, hoping this wouldn't turn out to be a disaster.

England took out the flour, baking soda, some butter, vanilla, a few eggs, salt, and sugar, and set all items on the kitchen counter. "What would you like to bake?"

"Something classic," America replied, searching through England's cupboards. "Chocolate chip sounds good."

"What are you looking for?" England asked, wary the American was going to mess up his neatly stored supplies.

"I dunno. Something tasty?" America brought out a bag full of unidentifiable green lumps and made a face. "What the heck are these?"

To be honest, England wasn't quite sure himself. "Just leave everything be and help me find some chocolate."

America took one last look at the bag, then gingerly slipped it back to its initial location. "Ugh, that was a bad idea. Anyway, here's what we need." He produced a container full of chocolate delights and added to the pile of ingredients.

"Ah, let's see...butter, eggs, vanilla and sugar first," England said, and added said components into a bowl. After beating the ingredients into a smooth mixture, America dipped a finger inside the bowl and tasted the batter.

"Don't do that," England scolded. America replied to this by retrieving more batter and smearing it on England's cheek, grinning.

Something took hold of England and he grabbed a pinch of flour, flinging it at the other nation. America just laughed and dumped some leftover vanilla on England, applying butter and melted chocolate to his face until the Brit resembled a pastry himself.

England justed stared at America, for so long the latter thought he was angry. Then, shockingly, the older country's face spread into a wicked grin. He splattered the bowl's contents on America, as well as chocolate and sugar for a bonus. America staggered backwards, as if surprised by England's sudden counterblow. Both nations stared at each other, then burst out laughing.

After their laughter had died a little, things suddenly became very awkward. England found it difficult to meet America's blue gaze, and instead looked down at the floor.

"England," America said softly, after a moment's silence.

The British nation silently counted to three and looked up to meet America's eyes.

Although covered in a varied assortment of baking components, America still looked absolutely wonderful. Not for the first time, England noticed how the sunlight pouring in from the kitchen window made his blond hair shine, how tall and strong he seemed standing in front of England, and how his eyes were such an amazing shade of cerulean. He'd grown so much. England swallowed hard and found himself unable to look away.

"You have flour on your cheek," America said, stepping closer. He wiped away the flour with his thumb, and hesitated, his blue eyes locking with England's green ones. Then, slowly, he leaned forward and kissed England on the lips.

Something awoke within England, but he wasn't quite sure exactly what it was. He moved closer and breathed in that sweet scent of mint and lemon that clung to America, as the kiss deepened. The American's lips were soft and warm, and he tasted of vanilla and butter.

America lifted England onto the kitchen island and began leaving a trail of kisses down the British nation's neck. England's skin tingled where the younger country's lips made contact and he moaned softly, tangling his fingers in America's golden locks.

The sharp sound of the phone ringing jolted them apart. America's cheeks were dusted bright red as he squeaked, "Um...I'll go get that!"

After he dashed out of the room to answer the phone, England touched his lips in disbelief and wonder. He felt lightheaded, his thoughts flashing through his mind, each as quick as lightning. Did he...did they just...

A minute later, America came back, his eyes downcast. England reddened at the sight of him and he slid down from the island. A silence passed between them.

At the same time England said, "Let's just..." America began, "I think I'll..." and they both paused.

"I'll go rent...some movies," America said.

"Right," England said.

And just like that, America turned and quickly left the kitchen, leaving England alone yet again.

Once he heard the front door close shut, England exited the room and headed upstairs for his bedroom, suddenly feeling very tired. As he was changing into clean clothes, England caught sight of himself in the mirror.

His lips were swollen. And to make matters worse, a painfully obvious red mark blotched the skin slightly above his collarbone.

Sighing wearily, England ran a hand through his hair and collapsed onto his bed, allowing his eyes to slide shut for a much desired nap.

It had been a long day.

* * *

**Omg, I did it. :D I WROTE YAOI.**

**I mean, I don't write a lot of romance, much less yaoi. And I'm TERRIBLE at kissing scenes. Every time I get to the middle of one I get all embarrassed and have to end it quickly. **

**...Wow.**

**Yeah, it doesn't seem all that amazing (look at how many yaoi authors there are out there), but somehow it's a huge accomplishment for me. Now that I've gotten over that simple little fact, I'll get on with it. So, this will probably be a twoshot, so watch for the next chappy. Man, isn't this pairing awesome? =w=**

**SHANKS FOR READING AND TELL ME WHAT YA THINK~**

**...x Whitlinger x...**


	2. Chapter 2

"_Yaoi is like a drug. If you write it once, you can't stop yourself from writing more." _

—_Me_

* * *

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, _stupid._

Why did he have to go and ruin everything? Everything had been fine until he lost control of himself. But damn, England had looked so adorable with chocolate and vanilla smeared on his cheeks, his blond hair messy and sticking out in all the right places, and those beautiful green eyes wide as he stared up at America. The British nation's lips had been parted slightly, in such an incredibly sexy way America just couldn't resist matching them with his own.

He stared at the rows of DVD cases in front of him, not truly intending to rent anything. He was really more worried about what he was going to do once he left the store.

America, upon realizing he was going nowhere just standing like an idiot in a random shop, sighed and made for the glass door. Before he stepped outside, however, the cashier said, "Oh right, I almost forgot. Arthur left his jacket here last time. Could you help bring it back for him?"

"Sure," America said, and the cashier gave him England's jacket. Once outside, America buried his nose in the cloth and inhaled deeply. It smelled like cinnamon and tea leaves.

The house was quiet when he entered. America crossed through the living room and called softly, "England? You there, man?"

When he passed by the kitchen, America froze. An invisible force made him look inside.

Just the sight of the mess they had created made his face go warm. America quickly looked away and headed upstairs. He approached England's bedroom and stopped at the shut door, knocking because he couldn't remember how many times the British nation had told him to knock before entering someone else's room. When America received no answer, he opened the door and stepped inside.

England was sound asleep on his bed, curled into himself like a child. His blond hair was even more tousled than before and fell into his eyes, and his thick eyebrows that America found irresistible were relaxed, instead of knit together in frustration like they frequently were. England's mouth was slightly open and he snored softly, occasional sighs escaping his lips. Although he was technically over a thousand years old, there was a childish touch to his features that made America want to hold him in his arms and never let go.

America covered England with the nation's jacket and couldn't help but smile at his sleeping form. He brushed England's bangs from his face and stroked that silky blond hair, the corners of his lips tugging upward.

England stirred and America jerked his hand back.

"America," the Brit murmured softly, and America's heart beat faster. He slowly stood from the bed, quietly as to not wake England. But before making for the door, he quickly leaned down and planted a light kiss on England's forehead. Just a small one; the slightest brush of lips against skin.

With that, America left the room and shut the door soundlessly behind him.

. . . .

"Are we out of milk?"

The sudden voiced question jolted America out of his thoughts. He turned to find England standing at the bottom of the stairs. The Englishman's clothes were rumpled and his green eyes were weary, but that didn't make him look any less attractive.

"Y-You're up!" America suddenly found himself tongue-tied.

"Yes, it appears so." England stifled a yawn and entered the living room. "If we are in lack of the beverage, please do me a favor and go buy a quart, if that's alright."

"S-Sure." America, recalling that they were, in fact, out of milk, got up from his place on the sofa and grabbed his jacket. He paused at the front door. "Hey...Artie?"

"We're having fish and chips tonight," England said, dodging America's attempt to bring up That Incidence. "Don't be too long."

"...okay." America noted that England hadn't even reacted to the usage of his most despised nickname. He put a hand on the doorknob, but something made him hesitate.

America let go of the door and turned to face England. "Artie, can we talk?"

England wouldn't look America in the eye. "Just go get it already."

"England. Please," America said, approaching the Brit.

"God America, if you're not buying the milk I'll go get the bloody thing." England practically ran to the exit, his head bent low.

America caught England's wrist before he could make it to the door and spun him around so they were face to face. He put his hands on either side of the British nation's cheeks, which were flushed bright red, and gazed into those endless pools of green.

"Arthur," America said softly, "please don't leave me." He let go of England's face and instead pulled the Brit to him, wrapping the latter in a hug. He buried his nose in the English nation's hair, inhaling deeply. He could feel England's racing heartbeat against his chest, not too far from his own pounding heart.

Then England pushed America away, emerald eyes bright with something the American couldn't place. America stood there, hurt, when England brought his head down and crushed his lips against the younger's, wrapping his arms around the American's neck. England's kisses were hungry and America found himself responding. Somehow they ended up on the sofa with England straddling America, that amazing scent of tea leaves and cinnamon clinging to him like a second skin.

Finally they broke apart so both nations could get some air. England's face was flushed and the top of his shirt was undone. He got off America abruptly and moved to the other side of the sofa, looking away.

"Bloody twat," England muttered, and America smiled.

"Artie, let's not have fish and chips tonight," the American said, sitting up.

"My name is _Arthur_, how many times do I have to remind you?" England snapped, turning to America. "And did you just insult my cousine?" He glared at the latter, but soon blushed and looked down again.

America tilted England's chin up so their eyes met, a smile tugging at his lips. "You couldn't make a decent breakfast to save a life," he said. "But that's what I love about you."

"W-Well, then what shall we have?" England asked, his cheeks growing even redder. "Don't tell me it's that bloody McDonald's again."

"Of course not; I have more creativity than that," America said. "Let's go eat at Burger King!"

England groaned. "Please kill me now."

America kissed England on the forehead and laughed. "There's no way I'd kill my Iggy. How about Chinese takeout? Then we can watch movies at home together. Just one horror movie, I promise!"

"...fine. But only one. And my name isn't Iggy."

America cheered and tackled England in a hug. "You're the best, Artie."

"Stop calling me that, argh!" England puffed out air in exasperation, but leaned against America's chest, sighing. "Sometimes I wonder why you haven't driven me nuts already."

"That's 'cause I'm the hero, duh," America said, then grinned and added, "I'm _your _hero."

"Whatever you say," England said, but he didn't sound annoyed. The Brit let go of America and stood. "But before we do anything...please go buy the milk."

* * *

**:D**

**I'm such a quick updater, it took me over a month to post this chapter. Kinda short too, sorry. ;w; Well, hope you enjoyed it!**

**Byes~**

**...x Whitlinger x...**


End file.
